


Fool Me Once

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Rimming, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What if I become your partner-in-crime now?” Harry asks, breaking the kiss and smiling fondly when Louis’ whines. “No one can replace Zayn, obviously, but it could be more fun with me than just by yourself. We can be the dream team again!”</p><p>“You’re kind of shit at pranks though, babe,” Louis says, biting his lip in a way that mesmerises Harry. “I have standards, y’know.”</p><p>Or, after Zayn left, Louis needs a new partner-in-crime, and Harry steps up the plate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool Me Once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RegularGatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegularGatsby/gifts).



> okay, first of all, thank you very, very much to my wonderful beta, [Reagan!](http://thestagandship.tumblr.com/)
> 
> big thank you to the mods who ran this exchange, I've had a great time writing for this and I'm so looking forward to seeing the other works produced.
> 
> thanks to Sophia Smith, for existing
> 
> and thank you, RegularGatsby, for three amazing prompts!
> 
> Translation in Russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3797687)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)

Harry’s got Louis on his lap, his tongue licking into Louis’ mouth, when Liam bursts into their dressing room.

“Louis!” he yells, shaking a scrap of fabric in his fist dramatically.

Louis pulls back, tightening his legs around Harry’s waist to make sure he doesn’t fall. Harry grips Louis’ hips firmer, leaning back against their dressing table. “Post-show private time, Liam,” Louis snaps, shooting Liam a withering glare. “You know the rules, we’re not stopping for anyone so shut up and watch or get the fuck out.”

“S’true.” Harry says, burying his grin in Louis’ neck.

“For the last time, I’m not watching you have sex!” Liam cries.

“Then _leave!_ ” Louis huffs, curling his fingers in Harry’s hair. He tugs gently, and Harry presses open-mouthed kisses to the column of his neck, practically purring when Louis tugs again, harder.

“No! I want to know what’s up with this.” Liam shakes the fabric again.

“That’s a fabric dick, Liam.” He’s biting back a smirk, mischief glinting in his eyes.

Harry cackles when Liam turns around. There’s a large dick-shaped-hole in the back in the back of his shirt, the tip starting just below the collar and the balls resting over the base of his spine. He spins back around, a scowl twisting his features when he clenches his fist tighter around the penis-cutout that must have come from his shirt.

Louis bursts into giggles, his shoulders shaking as his head falls to rest on Harry’s broad shoulder.

“It’s not funny!” Liam protests. “ _You did this to all my shirts and hung the penises everywhere._ ”

Harry can’t hold in his own laughter then, giggles bubbling from his chest because Liam’s _face_. He looks so offended and Harry’s just imagining Louis cutting out all the dicks and covering Liam’s room in them and he hasn’t laughed this hard is _days_.

“It’s a joke, Liam, chill out.” Louis wheezes, but Liam doesn’t join in with the laughter. He crosses his arms, scowl darkening, and starts tapping his foot impatiently, like an angry mother. Harry’s giggles slow to a halt as Liam gets progressively more tense.

“All of my shirts, Louis.” Liam repeats. “We’ve got six more shows left and I haven’t got a single t-shirt to wear, because you ruined _all of them_.”

“Fucking Christ, you’re a bloody millionaire.” Louis bites back, eyes narrowing. Harry strokes his thumb in a soothing motion across the strip of skin between Louis’ t-shirt and jeans. “Buy some more. You and Caroline will have a right laugh replacing them.”

“That’s not the point.” Liam argues, flapping the fabric about again. “You _literally ruined all of my shirts_. Don’t you think you took your stupid pranks too far?”

“What’d you want me to do about it now?”

“Apologise!” Liam growls. “And promise not to ruin my stuff again.”

“Fucking fine.” Louis huffs. “I’m sorry I ruined your shitty t-shirts, and that you _clearly_ don’t understand art. Now, can you fuck off so we can have sex?”

Liam rolls his eyes, looking like he can barely contain a frustrated scream, and storms out of the room. The door to the dressing room slams behind him, and Harry feels like he can breathe again.

“So, that was unexpected.” he says, trailing off and brushing Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. There’s a tense set to Louis’brow, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“He’s so bloody sensible,” Louis grumbles, leaning into Harry’s touch. “Half his t-shirts are fucking plain anyway, the dicks spiced them up a bit. ‘S a fucking joke.”

“Maybe he’s not quite ready for jokes yet.” Harry says diplomatically, because Liam’s right, Louis doesn’t normally take his pranks this far. He’ll do a hell of a lot to Liam’s stuff, but never ruin something beyond repair, and well, considering Zayn left a few days ago, a link between them isn’t _entirely_ out of the blue. “And maybe you’re not ready for, uh, lighthearted pranks yet.”

Louis sags then, the tension pouring out of him. Harry slides his hands to Louis’ upper thighs, holding him against Harry’s body tightly, and walks them over to the settee where they can lie down and cuddle. It takes a lot of shifting, but Harry manages to get Louis lying on top of him, chest-to-chest, with their foreheads bumping.

“It’s no fun anymore, without Zayn.” Louis clarifies, pouting. “He was my partner-in-crime, Haz, and now he’s gone and not coming back, and I’ve got no one to prank Liam with now and everything’s shit. I need a smoke.”

Louis rolls off Harry’s stomach, rummaging through their bags until he finds the plastic tub they keep their weed in. Harry sits up, making room for Louis to take his place next to him, resting his arm around Louis’ shoulders when he does.

“Wanna share?” Louis asks, picking out one of the spliffs that Harry rolled earlier and fishing a lighter from his pocket.

Harry hums his assent and moves the tub off Louis’ legs, setting it on the floor. Louis lights the spliff, pockets the lighter, and climbs on to Harry’s lap, his knees bracketing Harry’s thighs so he’s just tall enough like this to lean over Harry.

Louis curls his free hand around the back of Harry’s neck, like he’s about to pull him in for a kiss. Instead, he takes a drag from the spliff, holding the smoke in his lungs for brief moment, before he exhales between Harry’s lips.

Harry moans softly, digging his fingers into Louis’ hips. The cloying smoke fills his senses until he lets it out, tilting his chin up to coax Louis into a kiss. It’s slow and languid and a little bit filthy, only stopping when Louis pulls away for another drag, breathing it into Harry’s mouth just like the last time.

They alternate between shotgunning and kissing until the spliff is practically gone, and Louis’ starting to grind against Harry’s cock through his jeans. His hand is still cupping the back of Harry’s neck possessively, his fingers tangling in the loose curls there. He stubs the spliff in the ash tray resting on the arm of the settee, and grips Harry’s biceps, rocking closer to him.

“What if I become your partner-in-crime now?” Harry asks, breaking the kiss and smiling fondly when Louis’ whines. “No one can replace Zayn, obviously, but it could be more fun with me than just by yourself. We can be the dream team again!”

“You’re kind of shit at pranks though, babe.” Louis says, biting his lip in a way that mesmerises Harry. “I have standards, y’know.”

“Let me do a trial prank on Niall then.” Harry catches Louis’ lips in a more urgent kiss, nipping his lower lip between his teeth. “He’s easy to prank, won’t suspect a thing.”

“Gonna play up the cherub cheeks?” Louis grins, sliding his hands to Harry’s jaw, his thumbs pressing into the spots where Harry’s dimples appear. “Your innocent act doesn’t fool anyone, love. You’re as dirty as they come.”

“Gonna show you how great a prankster I am.” Harry promises, placing his hands over Louis’ and squeezing gently. “You’ll see.”

***

Harry, in the interest of wanting Louis to feel better as soon as possible, plans his prank on Niall for the following day, before their second show in Manila. He caught a burst of inspiration while sucking Louis off, after sharing a second spliff, and now he’s putting his plan into action.

Sneaking into Niall’s hotel room is easy. He literally just walks into Niall’s room under the premise of wanting a chat in the morning, and then oh-so-subtly mentions that Liam was looking for Niall by the hotel’s pool not too long ago, suggesting that Niall go find him. Whoever said that Harry Styles can’t act is a fucking liar.

When Niall leaves, Harry steals all of his white shirts, vests and underwear from his luggage, sticking a towel under Niall’s door to stop it closing properly, and sneaks out of the room again. He stops off at his and Louis’ room for a brief moment, to get his wallet and the final piece to his grand master plan: a pair of cheap red boxers.

He slips down to the laundry room unnoticed, and well, pays anyone who attempts to stop him enough that they let him go through. His motives are relatively harmless, he just needs to borrow a washing machine for an hour or so, and well, he’s rich and a little reckless. Giving people extra money is no skin off his back.

Harry stuffs all the white clothes and the red boxers into a washing machine, and pulls up a book on his phone to read while he waits. He can’t imagine Louis ever spending this long on a prank before without physically doing something, which must be why he hasn’t done this before, because really, the idea is fucking great.

All the clothes are a bright, soaking pink when the washing machine stops, and Harry grins gleefully. He transfers the clothes to a tumble dryer and returns to his book, dropping a quick text to Louis while he waits.

 **me [10:07]:** in the middle of pranking niall!!!

 **me [10:07]:** gonna be a great one xx

 **L [10:09]:** better be if u wanna play with the big boys

 **L [10:10]:** text me when ur done

The clothes don’t take that long to dry, and Harry strikes up a conversation with an employee that comes down to wash some other clothes anyway. When they’re finished, he folds them neatly and, after confirming with Louis that Niall is still at the pool, sneaks back upstairs to put everything back where he found them.

He takes a moment to marvel at the pink colour of the clothes, and rips a piece of paper from the notepad on the bedside table to scrawl a banana on. He leaves it on the pile of clothes, his ‘tag’, and smiles smugly to himself as he leaves Niall’s room.

Louis’ sitting with Niall when Harry arrives at the poolside, Liam swimming laps of the pool. Harry orders a sugary sweet cocktail from the bar before he goes to join them, ‘stumbling’ when he passes Niall and tipping the drink all down his front, making sure to catch his shirt and swimming shorts.

“Oh no!” Harry exclaims, biting his lip to keep the smile from stretching across his cheeks. “Sorry, mate, you better go change. Sweet stuff attracts wasps, you know.”

“Alright, but be careful, H,” Niall says, rolling off the sunbed and frowning at the sweet scent. “See ya in a few.”

“Bit early for a cocktail, love,” Louis remarks, patting the sunbed beside him for Harry to sit down on. It’s covered in Liam’s towel, he notices, but Louis just chucks it a few beds over and beams at Harry.

“Just watch.” Harry tells him, barely containing his delight.

Niall doesn’t show up for another ten minutes, during which Harry settles on Liam’s bed and starts playing Football Top Trumps with Louis. Harry’s just handing over his final card to Louis, beaten by fucking Ibrahimovic’s height, when Niall walks back to their established base, pink vest slung over his shoulder and pink swimming shorts snug around his waist.

Harry pokes Louis in the side, tilting his head towards Niall. Louis’ brows crease, a smirk twisting his lips.

“That’s a bold statement, Nialler,” Louis says as Niall shrugs the loose vest on and stretches out on the sunbed. He picks up his iPod off the floor and puts in an earbud.

“Yeah, went upstairs and all my white clothes are pink,” Niall shrugs, _completely_ unfazed. “Thanks, Haz, or well, ‘m assuming it was you ‘cause everyone else has been down here.”

He puts the other earbud in then, sliding his sunglasses on, and promptly falls asleep. Harry’s mouth gapes.

“That was your grand prank?” Louis scoffs.

“I don’t know whether to be frustrated ‘cause like, the prank didn’t work,” Harry leans over to whisper in Louis’ ear, “or to be proud ‘cause Niall clearly doesn’t care that pink is traditionally stereotyped as a ‘girl’s colour’ and he’s happy to wear it anyway, and that’s exactly how I raised him.”

“It did flop.” Louis agrees, bumping shoulders with Harry. “It wasn’t even the execution, you did that brilliantly, it was the idea. It was pretty shit, babe.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad,” Harry protests, prodding Louis’ side again so he squirms, a high-pitched squeak bursting from his lips. “Was it good enough to play with the big boys though?” he adds, waggling his eyebrows.

Louis looks at him thoughtfully for a long moment, and Harry’s getting caught up in his blue eyes and kissable lips when he finally nods. “Yeah, alright, you can think up our next prank for Liam, but only because you’re cute.”

Harry preens.

***

Harry thinks long and hard about how to prank Liam. There’s a couple of different ways he could go about this. There’s itching powder before their next show in Jakarta, but Harry thinks Louis has already tried that and Liam had an allergic reaction. He could steal Liam’s phone and change all his contacts to a banana emoji, but well, Louis’ already done that one too (except he changed the names to ‘8==D’ because Louis is predictable when it comes to dicks). Thinking about it, Louis’ already done the decent pranks.

Harry persists, though, and after getting high with Louis again, he’s struck with an idea.

“Lou, wake up, Lou.” Harry shakes Louis’ shoulders, rousing him from sleep. It’s the morning of the Jakarta show, and Harry’s just come back from his early-morning jog which means Liam’s probably leaving for _his_ morning jog, and they only have so long before they’re due at the stadium. “Lou, babe, come on.”

“This better be fucking good, Haz.” Louis grumbles, burying his face in the pillow. “It’s like five in the bloody morning.”

Harry rolls his eyes and rips the duvet off Louis’ body, cackling as Louis squeals and curls tightly into a ball. It’s an adorable sight, made even better by Louis’ lack of clothing, but not productive to what Harry actually wants to do.

“It’s pranking time, Lou.” Harry informs him, tickling Louis’ sides until he’s a squirming mess. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Fucking hate you.” Louis huffs, but he rolls off the bed and grabs his clothes.

They’re sneaking out of their hotel room within minutes, trading kisses as they creep down the corridor and Louis’ humming the Mission Impossible theme tune. Harry produces a spare key card for Liam’s room out of his pocket, which he actually borrowed from Paddy with full permission to use as long as Harry a) didn’t give it to someone else, and b) gave it back at the end of the day. He tells Louis he stole it though. They’ve been dating for years, but Harry still likes to impress Louis.

“Get all his trousers.” Harry instructs when they sneak inside after knocking a few times to check if Liam’s in.

“Won’t be hard, he keeps them all in his suitcase.” Louis says, dragging Liam’s suitcase from the side of his bed to the middle of the hotel room, the same layout as Harry and Louis’. “Lazy boy.”

“So do you.” Harry says, stretching his legs out on the soft carpet next to Louis.

“Details.” Louis dismisses, unzipping the suitcase and throwing everything that’s not trousers or shorts out of the case and on to the bed. There’s nothing particularly interesting in Liam’s case, sadly, though Louis does pause to show Harry the box of extra large ribbed condoms that Liam has stuffed in the corner, a muttered “ _for show, definitely_ ,” all he has to offer.

“So what’re we doing now, Haz?” Louis asks when there’s a fairly sizable pile sitting in the suitcase.

“Tie all the legs together in a chain,” Harry says simply. “Then we chuck the chain out the window, keeping one trouser-leg in here with like, a chair or something, and I guess we could leave the mess as it is. Oh, I also have silly string in our room for us to tag the crime scene, you know?”

Louis arches a brow. “Tag it?”

“Yeah, you know, the Dream Team tag.” Harry shrugs. “Like graffiti artists, but well, us pranking people.”

“I know what tags are, Harold,” Louis huffs, indignant. “What’s our tag then?”

Harry starts tying the legs of Liam’s jeans together. Better to get a move on before Liam comes back and finds them bickering about tags. “I don’t know yet, we’ll think it up later.”

Louis joins him in tying the trousers together then, and soon enough they’ve got a fairly long chain of jeans, pyjama bottoms and ever a few pairs of shorts stretching out across the room. Harry’s satisfied with it, at least. He can’t quite figure out what Louis thinks of the prank because Louis’ too busy going through the rest of Liam’s shit now for Harry to look for his reaction. It’ll probably depend on how Liam responds. Louis’ always saying the best part of the prank is the aftermath.

Harry chucks one end of the chain out of Liam’s window, hooking the end he’s holding on to around a chair and strategically placed it underneath the window, weighed down with Liam’s suitcase. Louis grabs the silly string from their room, and sprays a giant yellow dick on the front of the suitcase. Harry adds a banana, because they’re both predictable in that sense, and adds a small “DT” for Dream Team. Because he can.

Liam finds the trouser-chain about an hour after they leave his room, when Louis’ in the shower that Harry’s been kicked out of for “getting too handsy”. He’s just doing up his jeans when Liam starts pounding on the hotel door, or well, Harry can only assume it’s Liam because really who else could it be?

It is Liam.

Harry opens the door to Liam’s unimpressed face, stepping back to allow him into the room. He has to bite back a smirk and resist the urge to call Louis in here. Louis’ll probably hear Liam’s voice over the shower, and well, Harry’s aiming for innocent.

“Really, Haz?” Liam asks, breaking the silence.

“Really what, Liam?” Harry counters, folding his arms over his chest and pursing his lips.

“My jeans!” Liam cries, throwing his hands up into the air. “You and Louis tied them together and chucked them out the window.”

“Um, excuse you, Liam.” Harry drops his arms to his side and bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. “We did no such thing. Where is your proof?”

“The banana and dick on my suitcase in silly string which _I saw you buy earlier_.”

“Not enough proof,” Harry protests. “We could have used that silly string for anything.”

Liam narrows his eyes at him. They stand in an impasse for a long moment, and Harry is really about to burst into a fit of giggles any second, but Liam relaxes then, shrugging and saying, “Well, tell Louis he’s losing his touch then.”

Harry’s stomach plummets. “What?”

“His pranks.” Liam clarifies. “They used to be good. This one is actually kind of bad, you know? And then the one before that was just mean. It took me a minute to get my jeans in and another three to untangle them. The silly string was the best part and even that came off easily. He’s losing his touch. Anyway, see you in rehearsals.”

Harry’s left standing in the middle of their hotel room, gobsmacked and a little horrified.

“Babe, you alright?”

Harry whips his head around, catching sight of Louis drying off with a towel, staring up at Harry with concern in his eyes. Shit, Harry’s dragging Louis down. He’s a liability. He’s so shit at being bad he’s actually ruining Louis.

“Fine.” he squeaks, a blatant lie. He hopes Louis won’t question it.

He really needs to call Zayn.

***

Harry calls Zayn later that night, after the show (and post-show private time) and once they’re in their hotel since they aren’t leaving for Johannesburg until the morning. Louis’ out with Liam and Niall; Harry bowed out at the last minute, feigning tiredness because he still hasn’t found a way to tell Louis what Liam said about his pranks. Harry just needs some advice. He’ll get better.

“I’m ruining him, Zayn.” Harry whines into the phone when Zayn picks up and that’s not how Harry intended this conversation to start but okay.

“What the fuck are you on about, H?” Zayn laughs, and Christ, Harry missed his voice. They’ve not called each other much, mostly texted back and forth with Zayn taking some much needed rest, but Harry really, _really_ missed his voice.

“Louis!” Harry clarifies. “His pranks. He’s been pretty harsh with them since you...you know, so I said I’d do them with him, cause like, it’ll be more fun that way, but I’m fucking shit at pranking people. Liam said Louis’ game has slipped and I’m _ruining him_.”

“Fuck, I forgot how dramatic you can be.” Harry can practically see Zayn rolling his eyes. “You’re not ruining him, you dickbrain, you just need to put some thought into your pranks. First rule, anything you come up with after getting high is probably worthless. Second, don’t underestimate the effectiveness of classics, you know, itching powder, post-it notes, glitter. All of that.”

“Glitter.” Harry repeats, already imagining the possibilities. “Glitter I can work with. Thanks, mate. How’s the rest coming along?”

“S’good.” Zayn mumbles in a way that’s really not telling Harry much. “Just about to head to Mum’s actually. The news is about to break soon, I think.”

“Shit is it the twenty-fifth already?” Harry physically slaps himself. How the fuck could he forget that _today_ is the day Zayn’s departure is being announced to the world. “You want us to Skype you when it breaks?”

“Nah, Mum’s imposing a forty-eight hour no electronics rule,” Zayn laughs. “Well, we’ll have the DVD player. Gonna watch some classics with the fam.”

“Sick.” Harry sighs, a little jealous. Still, he gets to curl up with Louis when he gets back from hanging out with Liam and Niall, demanding cuddles. His life is good. “Just call if you need anything. You know we love you.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep it in mind.” Zayn says, adding “You giant sap” under his breath.

Harry hangs up with a smile plastered on his face. He opens up Safari and types ‘Johannesburg art supply stores’ into the search bar.

 _Glitter_.

***

Harry decides the perfect time to strike is after the first show in Johannesburg. It’s soon enough that Liam’s probably not suspecting anything, any more than usual, that is. He’ll be too distracted by their first concert after the news of Zayn officially leaving to pay too much attention to his surroundings (plus it’ll be a good distraction for Louis, who’s been a little ansty since the news broke), and most importantly, Sophia’s coming down for the last few shows. It’s their golden opportunity.

“I hope Sophia doesn’t murder us.” Harry muses as he unscrews the cap on a tube of pink tinged glitter and pours it into the bucket in front of him.

“Nah, Soph’s cool.” Louis says from where he’s testing for the best place to position their bucket on the dressing room door with a spare they found. “She’ll think it’s hilarious, and she’ll actually _like_ being glittery for weeks, so she’s not gonna murder us. _Liam_ , on the other hand.”

Harry giggles, already picturing Liam covered in glitter, and unscrews another tube. He had to buy all the glitter from like, seven different stores to get enough to fill up the bucket, but it’ll be worth it. He also picked up something extra that he’s kept hidden from Louis so far, wanting to surprise him when Liam finds out.

“Remind me to tip the employees here.” Louis says off-handedly, tweaking the position of the bucket, sliding it to the left, and walking through the door again. It tips straight onto his head.

Harry hums. “We really should. There’ll be a lot of glitter everywhere that’ll need vacuuming. Also, how’re we making sure he doesn’t notice it too early?”

“We hope and pray,” Louis answers, taking the bucket off his head and straightening up with a satisfied huff. “He’s too oblivious to see the bucket before the show cause of the nerves, and after, well, we both know Sophia is _very_ distracting to him.”

Louis comes to help him fill the actual bucket to the brim with glitter, and then it’s a case of hiding it in Liam’s dressing room so one of them will be able to sneak back in straight after the show, put it in place on top of the door.

“That’s it for now.” Louis covers the bucket with a dark jumper, placing it behind a potted plant in the far corner of the room. “I’ll go check if he’s coming.”

Harry waits until Louis’ out in the corridor before rushing to Liam’s suitcase, rifling through it until he finds the box of condoms, stuffing them into his pocket and filling the box with the uh, special ones, he bought earlier. He tucks it back into position and rezips the suitcase, ready for Louis to come back in and give him the clear to leave.

The show goes brilliantly, even with Zayn’s absence made official. They finish on a high, stumbling off the stage with the notes of _Best Song Ever_ on replay, and Louis kisses Harry’s cheek with a wink and bounds off down the corridor to Liam’s dressing room.

Harry spots that Liam’s already got his arm around Sophia, whispering in her ear and leading her down the corridor towards their rooms with Niall walking in front of them. Harry rushes over and stands in their path, slapping one hand high on the wall and resting the other on his exaggeratedly cocked hip.

“Sophia!” he yells, grinning wildly.

“Harry!” she cries back, a little less enthusiastically with a bemused expression crossing her face. “I saw you earlier, I don’t know why this is so exciting!”

“I am _always_ excited to see you, Sophia.” Harry says, nodding his head for emphasis. Just a minute or so and Louis should be back. “Did you know, great white sharks actually have an incredibly complex body language they use to communicate, and it _even_ works with humans. Louis and I watched a documentary about them.”

“Where is Louis?” Liam asks, narrowing his brows.

“Excuse me, Liam, we are _trying_ to have a conversation here.” Harry says, affronted.

“Mate, you’re interrupting our post-show private time,” Liam grumbles, tightening his arm around Sophia’s waist. Harry barely contains a cackle at the thought of what’s to come. “You and Lou get pre-show private time _and_ post-show private time. You even get during-show private time when you take your loo breaks!”

“To be fair, babe,” Sophia interjects with a giggle, “they get that because they can’t make it thirty minutes without sticking their hands down each others pants. We have a little more class than that.”

“Exact- _hey!”_ Harry slaps a hand to his chest, stumbling backwards. “I trusted you, Sophia. _How could you_?”

Sophia smirks. “Am I wrong?”

“Is she wrong about what?” Louis asks, jogging up to Harry and linking their arms so they can hold hands.

“That we can’t go thirty minutes without sticking our hands down each others pants,” Harry says, pouting.

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Louis shrugs, absolutely shameless about it. Fuck, Harry loves him.

“Glad we cleared that up,” Liam says and guides Sophia past Harry and Louis. “Now it’s time for _our_ post-show private time, thanks.”

“You treat her right, Liam Payne!” Harry yells after them.

Sophia angles her head back round and winks. “I make sure he does!”

“I almost feel bad,” Harry says, quieter now that Liam and Sophia are out of hearing distance. “Almost.”

“Come on.” Louis tugs Harry down the corridor, not that Harry isn’t fully willing. They bypass Sophia and Liam, Harry dropping them a wink as they run, barrelling into their dressing room with breathless laughter.

“I fucking love pulling pranks with you.” Harry says giddily, pressing Louis up against the wall. He rests his weight on his forearm above Louis’ head, the other trailing down Louis’ side to spread out against his slim hip. Louis’ breath hitches, his chin tilting up like he’s waiting for a kiss. “Successful ones.”

“About to see how successful it really is.” Louis says, his lips curving up at the edges and Harry can’t help but kiss him then, slow and sensual. He gently coaxes his tongue between Louis’ lips, swallowing the soft sounds that come from the back of his throat. Louis angles his head to deepen the kiss, snaking his hands around Harry’s neck and tangling his fingers in his hair.

“Any moment now.” Harry whispers into Louis’ mouth, biting his lower lip and rolling it between his teeth. Louis shivers, letting Harry crowd him further into the wall, standing between his spread thighs.

As if on cue, Liam bursts into their dressing room, absolutely shining. Harry breaks away from Louis, vaguely registering Sophia’s hysterical laughter coming from across the corridor, but mostly he’s focused on Louis’ slight frame shaking with his cackles.

“It’s not fucking funny!” Liam shouts, glitter falling from his body with every miniscule movement. Harry begs to disagree. “This glitter’ll be here forever.”

“It really brings out your eyes,” Harry giggles. “They’re shining.”

“I hate you both!” Liam scrapes some glitter off his shoulder and flings it in their direction. It barely reaches them, actually ends up sprinkling across Louis’ cheekbones. Harry kind of wants to lick it off. “I’m getting you both back for this.”

“Can’t wait, Liam,” Louis says dismissively, staring up at Harry with dark eyes. His hips are moving against Harry’s thigh with tiny movements, his cock hardening in his jeans. “But you’re not beating this any time soon.”

Harry preens, leaning down to mouth at Louis’ neck, holding Louis’ hips in place when he starts squirming. There’s a sensitive just above the juncture between his neck and shoulder that always makes Louis’ knees weak when Harry bites it sharply, so naturally he takes every available opportunity to mark it.

“Are you getting off on this?” Liam shrieks, chucking more glitter on them. Harry licks over the spot again. “Mate, that’s just weird. Fuck, I’m out of here.”

“Good riddance.” Louis calls after him as Liam slams the door shut. There’s a trail of glitter left in his wake, and Harry buries his giggles in Louis’ skin.

“The prank turned you on, didn’t it?” Harry murmurs, when his laughter has quietened and Louis’ still rubbing up against Harry’s thigh. Pink flush is creeping up Louis’ cheeks and Harry loves how the colour is the first way to tell how turned on Louis gets (the breathy voice and high-pitched moans come later).

“Fuck off.” Louis growls, pressing his hands to Harry’s chest and pushing him back. Harry lets himself be moved, grinning when the backs of his legs hit the settee and he’s tumbling on to it with a thud. Louis wastes no time climbing on top, stretching out so they’re aligned, chest-to-chest. “You’re hot when you pull off a prank.”

“I’m hot all the time.” Harry laughs, slipping his hands under Louis’ t-shirt and stroking his sides. The softness to his waist, hips and belly is one of Harry’s favourite things; he could spend all day kissing and touching the skin, and still want to keep at it.

“Nah.” Louis raises himself off Harry’s enough that he can unbutton the remaining buttons on Harry’s shirt, peppering his cheeks with soft kisses while he does, because Louis prides himself on multi-tasking, and Harry will accept any and all kisses. “I’ve seen better.”

Harry snorts. “Oh really?”

Louis sits up then so he’s straddling Harry’s hips, pushing his shirt off his shoulders. He trails a finger down the centre of Harry’s chest, skimming over his belly button and scratching a blunt nail through the dark hair leading beneath his jeans. “Really.”

Harry cups Louis’ dick through his jeans, rubbing his thumb over the head. “Your throbbing member says otherwise.”

“For God’s sake, Haz,” Louis groans, pinching Harry’s nipples sharply. Harry arches into the touch, wordlessly begging for Louis to twist them again. “Stop saying shit like that.”

“What? I’m not gonna get dicked by my boyfriend if I do?” Harry says breathlessly.

Louis rolls his eyes, bending over to bite at Harry’s collarbones, sinking his sharp teeth into Harry’s skin. The pain goes straight to his cock, just like Louis knows it does, and usually post-show private time is all a frantic rush to ease the heat so they can make it to their hotel without fucking in the car, but given the way Louis’ attacking his chest, nipping and sucking his way to Harry’s nipples, they’re probably not leaving anytime soon. Louis’ dragging this one out. “Stop using that phrase if you want me to fuck you.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry giggles, breaking off into a moan when Louis bites his left nipple. “I promise I will quit with the bad dirty talk.”

“Thank you.” Louis kisses his way down Harry’s torso, tracing the outline of the butterfly with his pointed tongue.

“But only because I want to be dicked by your quivering hardness.” Harry adds, delighting in the glare Louis shoots him.

“That’s fucking awful,” he hisses, unbuttoning Harry’s jeans and pulling the zipper down. He wraps his lips around the head of his cock through his boxers, and that shuts Harry up. Even through the fabric, he can feel the heat of Louis’ mouth, his pink lips parted so beautifully.

“You love penis jokes.” Harry manages to get out, stilling instantly when Louis’ hands come to rest on the lovehandles of his hips, keeping him in place.

“Yeah, but even you can’t make the phrases ‘throbbing member’ and ‘quivering hardness’ sexy. Sorry, love.”

Harry pouts, and Louis clearly takes enough mercy on him to tug his boxers and jeans down his thighs and off his legs, only pausing to take off Harry’s boots. He leaves a path of open-mouthed kisses up the inside of Harry’s legs, paying special attention to the upper-inside of Harry’s thighs. There’s already a few lovebites marking the pale skin, and Louis doesn’t hesitate to add another. Private marks are all they can get away with these days, and Harry cherishes every single one. It helps that nothing gets his cock harder than Louis’ scruff rubbing against his skin too.

“D’you have lube?” Louis asks once he’s satisfied, voice a little rough. Heat flashes in Harry’s abdomen.

“S’in the bag.” Harry angles his head towards the large handbag resting on one of the other chairs. As if Harry would _not_ bring lube.

Louis hurries to get the travel-sized bottle from the bag, and a condom too. He chucks it over to Harry, who misses, but only because he’s distracted by Louis stripping out of his vest top and jeans. He thinks he’s allowed a few unmentioned moments of clumsiness when his hot as hell boyfriend is getting naked in front of him.

Harry picks up the lube and condom as Louis strips off his boxers, and he _doesn’t_ drop them again, but his mouth does water a little because Louis is thick and hard, and Harry is gonna be fucked into this settee.

“Hands and knees, baby.” Louis instructs, rubbing his palms over Harry’s broad back once he’s in position. Goose bumps erupt under Louis’ touch, his dainty hands so firm and assured, like he knows exactly how to play Harry. “Gonna finger you open first.”

Harry whines low in his throat when Louis coats his right hand in lube and traces tight circles around Harry’s hole with his finger. He listens to Louis’ rough whispers and relaxes into his touch, enough that Louis can slide the first finger in easily. They fuck enough that one finger is barely anything by now, and Harry adjusts to the stretch, the gentle way Louis’ moving it inside him, a contrast to the tight grip on Harry’s hip and the sharp drag of his teeth along Harry’s spine. Louis adds another, curving them just right inside Harry, and it’s only two fingers but it’s already so overwhelming.

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry moans, feeling Louis’ burning touch everywhere. His kisses are trailing further down his spine, his fingers reaching deeper inside Harry, twisting this way and that until they’re brushing against his prostate and his tongue is licking over Harry’s rim, tracing where it’s stretched around his fingers. “Fuck, yeah, Lou.”

“Another?” Louis asks, pulling out his fingers to replace it with his tongue, fucking into Harry’s hole with short, sharp thrusts.

“ _Yes_ , oh my God.” Harry cries, collapsing forwards on to his arms so his back is slanted, his head buried in the cushion. It barely muffles his cries - _Lou, fuck, right there, yes yes yes_ \- when Louis pushes three fingers in and nips at the backs of Harry’s thighs. Harry’s cock aches between his legs, dripping precome on to the settee, but Louis takes his time with fingering Harry open, avoiding his cock completely.

“Ready to be dicked, baby?” Louis asks after an eon, and Harry can _see_ the smug on his face.

“S’not fair.” Harry murmurs, turning his head to the side so his voice, already dropping an octave or two, won’t be blocked by the cushion. “ _You_ make it sound sexy.”

“I make everything sexy, Haz.” Louis says, drawing his fingers from Harry’s arse and spanking him once when he whines. Harry hears fumbling about and the rip of the condom packet, and by the time Louis’ speaking again, he’s rubbing his cockhead against Harry’s stretched hole. “I could read from the dictionary and it’d be sexy.”

“Broccoli; noun.” Harry breathes just as Louis enters him slowly, which might not have been the best move because Louis bursts into laughter, accidentally thrusting in all the way and no, that was an _excellent_ move because Louis’ thick and filling him so well, his balls pressed against Harry’s arse, his hands firm on Harry’s hips.

“Fucking ridiculous,” Louis says, covering Harry’s broad body with his own, kissing the back of Harry’s neck. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry assures him. He rocks back in incremental movements, letting his body fully adjust to Louis before nodding his head with enough vigour that his hair flops over his face. “You can move.”

Louis does, starting with slow, deep thrusts and only getting faster and harder from there. Probably because Harry’s practically begs him for it, throwing his head back and gasping out broken fragments of sentences, “ _Please, Lou, harder -- give it -- fuck, yeah, I can take it -- please,”,_ but mostly because Louis knows how to make Harry feel fucking fantastic without even having to think about it. It’s all instinct, the way Louis angles his hips, how one hand keeps its tight grip on Harry’s waist, the other sliding up his back to tangle in his hair and keep his head pulled back. The lilt of his voice when he moans filth in Harry’s ear. It’s fucking glorious.

“Did so well with the prank, baby.” Louis grunts, pounding into Harry with short thrusts now, balls slapping against Harry’s arse and filling the room, along with their moans - neither have them have ever managed a truly quiet fuck. “Looked so good teasing Liam like that.”

“Stop thinking about Liam and make me come,” Harry grits out, fists clenching around the fabric of the cushions they’re fucking on. Louis huffs and tilts his hips so he’s driving into Harry’s prostate on pretty much all of his thrusts now, the stimulation enough that Harry thinks he could come from just this. He doesn’t want to though. He wants Louis’ slender hand on his cock and Louis’ mouth on his skin again, so he tacks on a desperate, “ _Please_.”

“Wasn’t thinking about Liam, babe,” Louis says, sliding the hand on Harry’s waist down to curl around his flushed cock. “But since you asked so nicely.”

Louis trails off and starts stroking Harry’s dick roughly, swiping precome from the tip of Harry’s leaking cock to ease his slide. It’s not enough to be completely painless, but Harry prefers it that way, and given the tightness coiling in his abdomen, he’s not going to need much longer before he’s coming.

“Almost there, Lou.” Harry moans, and Louis tightens his fist around Harry’s cock, and he’s coming over Louis’ hand with a muffled shout into the settee cushion. Louis fucks him through it, his movements getting sloppier as Harry clenches around him, and it’s barely a minute after before he’s fucking forwards one final time and biting Harry’s shoulder blades, coming with a high-pitched whine.

Harry waits until his breathing has returned to normal, and Louis’ slowly pulling out of his arse to take care of the condom and grab them some wet wipes, before flips over on to his back. His muscles are loose in the way they only ever are after an orgasm, and there’s probably gonna be a soreness in his arse tomorrow that’ll remind him of this so much that he’ll have to drag Louis off to a toilet for a quickie or something. They’ll make do, they’re resourceful.

“You know the glitter wasn’t the only part of the prank,” Harry voices when Louis’ wiped them both off and they’re cuddling on the settee, as sweaty and gross as it is.

“Hm?” Louis raises his brows and tilts his head up from where it’s resting underneath Harry’s jaw. “What else was there?”

Before Harry can reply, a muffled “ _for fuck’s sake!”_ comes from Liam’s dressing room, the timing all too perfect.

“I switched Liam’s regular condoms for glitter ones,” Harry says with pride. “They were a chance find, like, I was picking up more lube so I wasn’t even looking for them but it was probably fate or something. He’s now got a box full of pink, glittery condoms.”

Louis cackles so hard he almost falls off the settee, catching Harry’s biceps at the last minute. “Fucking hell, Haz, you’re unbelievable.”

“I’m a great partner-in-crime, right?” Harry grins, resting his hands on Louis’ arse. “Obviously no Zayn, but…”

Louis winks, his lips stretching into an easy smile. “The best I could ask for. You could give Zayn a run for his money.”

Harry can’t ask for more than that.


End file.
